Rarely has a story intrigued me as much as that of the Cyrus Kellog Cabin. It probably bores the #$%^&! out of Luis, but he's a good friend and if he's not interested, at least he pretends to be.

All I know is that I shall not rest until I've stood on the spot where he lived, looked at the tree which clasped his frozen body, and walked the canyon where he worked and searched for that elusive ore.

The story, in a nutshell, is this: Cyrus Kellog failed to come into town for supplies, the townsfolk worry, the set out to look for him, they find him frozen in a tree. Here is the story:


The Passing of Old Man Kellogg, as recorded in an article written for a special edition of The Fallon Eagle, on September 24, 1932, by Ira Heber Kent:

The story I am about to relate occurred at Stillwater while I was living there about the year of 1894 or 1895. There had been living in our community for many years, a man by the name of Cyrus W. Kellogg, and at the time of my story, he must have been about seventy years of age. How vividly, as I am writing these lines, I can recall how he looked in those days -- a rather small, stoop-shouldered, wiry old man, weighing probably one hundred forty pounds, and standing about five feet, eight inches tall. He would probably be clad in a pair of old shoes, the soles of which had been sewed on by himself and afterwards filled in with nails similar to those worn by the sheep herders of today; a pair of old overalls, probably patched in many places, with possibly leather over the seat and knees. These would be held in place by leather suspenders cut from a latigo strap and fastened to the overalls, perhaps, at one side with a thorn in the place where a button should be, and in other places by large safety pins. He would probably have on an old blue shirt, open at the collar and in front, showing the old gray hairs on his chest. He had a habit of going bare headed most of the time and the top of his head was entirely bald, surrounded by a fringe of wispy hair of a tawny, bleached-out color, hanging down on his neck.

A Living, Intelligent Soul

However, when you faced him, you entirely changed your opinion of the character of the man. His head was large and round, with a forehead wide and deep, such as is usually possessed by scholars or deep thinkers. Below the forehead were two very prominent heavy, bushy eyebrows, the hairs, which resembled wire in coarseness and intensity. The eyebrows protected and shielded a pair of bright, twinkling or penetrating gray eyes . . . and in looking into those eyes, you immediately became aware that you were facing a living and intelligent soul. A very prominent Roman nose extended below, with thin nostrils, and a long upper lip was just above the mouth, which looked like a slash in the face, so straight and thin the lips. The chin was the most characteristic feature of the entire face as it was wide and square, protruding from the face and showing to anyone who could read the owner usually finished anything he started. To complete the whole picture, those portions of the skin that had been exposed to the bright Nevada sun and the winds of the desert, had turned a dark brown and looked like the parchment generally supposed to encase a mummy.

Avoided Expensive Habits

I knew the old man quite well as he frequently visited my house and I sometimes spent a night with him in the hills. I recall that earlier in the summer of the year of which I am speaking, I had asked him to dinner and my wife noticed that he had not helped himself to any butter but was eating his bread dry. She tried to prevail upon him to help himself to the butter, but he said he would only be there for one meal and would have no butter at home, so it would not benefit him to resume a habit he would be unable to continue after he left our house.

Had Made Several Fortunes

He was a kind hearted old gentleman, although clothed in rags, and in his younger days had traveled in many foreign countries, from South America to China, had made several fortunes, and lost them. In fact, I think it was on account of his last wife stealing his money and running away with another man that caused him to be in the predicament he was in. Nothing could be more entertaining than to listen to his adventures of his earlier days, told in the language of a scholar and a man of education.He never used profane language under any conditions that I ever remember and was an inherent old gentleman.

Owned Black Prince Claims

The old man was the owner of six claims known as the Black Prince Mines, in addition to his other holdings, lying on the ridge and extending down each side of the mountain above Cox's Canyon, as we called it in those days, about twenty miles from Stillwater, and he usually came in about every two months for a bill of groceries, and departed to return only when his groceries were exhausted. He would come in on his saddle horse with his mule which he named "Jack Gitney" and which was as celebrated a character in the community as the old man himself

Mule Eats Bankroll

I recall one time he came in, tied the mule to the fence and absent mindedly hung his vest, in the pocket of which was about $100 in greenbacks, on the pack saddle. The mule turned its head, espied the greenbacks in the vest pocket, and others, seeing what the mule was up to, called the old man, who retrieved the vest, but only in time to see the last of the greenbacks disappear down the throat of Jack Gitney. I recall going up Cox's Canyon at one time when the old man was working on this side of the ridge in the canyon, and as there was only one place where we could secure pure ice-cold water, in a pool at the end of a tunnel about 80 feet long, we would take our canteens and utensils and go down there and get water. On this occasion Mr. Jack Gitney had entered the mouth of the tunnel to be in the shade, and when we threw rocks at him, he let both his heels fly at us. We returned, bringing with us the old man, who walked to the mouth of the tunnel, speaking to Jack Gitney and pressing him to one side, walked . . . him out, driving him up on the hillside so we could secure our water. I think it must have been in October that the old man came in the last time to buy his stock of groceries and supplies to last him two months,
as was his usual custom.

Saloon was Social Hall

At the time of which I am writing, there were probably ten or twelve families living in Stillwater and its immediate vicinity. Mr. J.M. Sanford ran the saloon which was our only place in which to congregate nights, gossip, and tell each other the news. Mr. Sanford, while not an educated man, was a natural born leader of men, and in all work of a public nature the leadership was usually acceded to him by common consent. For instance, if we were to put a big cottonwood tree on the dam in the summer or early fall, to raise the water, Mr. Sanford would grab hold of the tree and say "Come on, boys, take hold," and would wade in perhaps up to his neck in the water; and you can readily understand such leadership usually got results.

Not Much Drinking Done

He was an autocrat in the saloon, too. While we would assemble there every evening, ten or fifteen of us, playing cards and talking matters over, there wasn't much drinking done. When it came ten o'clock, Sanford would say, "Well, boys, it's time to shut up," and as he began to put out the lights, we would necessarily adjourn our gathering until the next night.

Fear Felt For Kellogg

Along in the middle of December, there came some heavy snow storms and we could see that the snow, glistening in the sunlight, must be very deep up around the country in which the Black Prince Mines were situated. So we ran over the holidays up to about the 5th of January, when someone raised the question one evening if we didn't think we ought to go up and see what had become of the old man; that he could not have much grub left by this time and maybe some accident had happened to him. This desultory discussion led to our assembling one morning in front of the saloon about four o'clock, and leaving for the mountains. . . . We had two pack horses loaded with blankets and our own grub, and I think there were four or five in the party who were mounted on their best horses, with a string of ten or fifteen head of loose saddle horses we drove ahead of us to break down the trail.

Snow Makes Going Tough

When we reached the canyon and started up the backbone of the ridge to go over to the Black Prince Mines we found the snow even deeper than we had anticipated. Sometimes we would go through drifts from two to five feet deep. The man in front, riding his horse, would plunge and break the trail and when his horse was exhausted, he would fall back and a fresh man would ride ahead and take up his work. In this manner we arrived at the camp of old man Kellogg along about mid-day, as near as I can remember.
Now I wonder if I can draw a picture of the mine and surroundings so that it will be intelligible to my readers. The mine was situated at the head of a blind gully about twenty feet wide. As you approached the north side, the trail led down into the gully leaving the cabin about twenty or thirty feet to the right, and on ground about four or five feet higher than the bottom of the gully. The side of the cabin faced the gully, with a huge fireplace that would accommodate pine logs about three feet long, opposite the door. On the end nearest the mountain was the mouth of the tunnel which had been covered over so that Mr. Kellogg, after eating his meals, could proceed through this covered way into the tunnel which at that period I should think must have extended about two hundred feet into the mountain with crosscuts at various points where ore had been taken out in between. Directly in front of the door, on the opposite side of the gully, was a juniper tree the top of which was about fifteen feet high, or about five feet from the top of the bank which would be about twenty feet east of the trail.

Find Kellogg in Tree

When we had arrived at the edge of the gully on the trail, wading through snow from two to four feet deep, we saw an object apparently sitting in the top of the juniper tree at the side of the trail about five feet below us. Upon closer examination this proved to be the body of the old man. He was in a sitting posture, with his knees drawn up under him and his head bending down onto his knees. His right hand, in an extended position, was clutching a limb of the juniper tree which we eventually had to saw off to let the old man down as we could not detach his fingers. From his position he could look directly into the door of his cabin, which was standing wide open, and at that time a stretch of snow a foot or more deep extended across the room.

Start Homeward Trip

We immediately got busy and let the old man down, placed him on a pack saddle in a sitting position, covered him with blankets and lashing him fast with ropes we had brought with us . . . we started for home.
Now let me reconstruct the story as we figured it out. The old man was sitting in his cabin before the burning logs, in his big armchair, with the snow and the sleet blowing outside, when he thought he heard a voice calling. He immediately started out up the trail, leaving the door wide open so he could see the light on his return. As he went down the trail, he thought he heard the voice again, and imagining that it must be someone freezing to death and perhaps calling upon him for assistance, he continued farther. Finally he could get no reply in answer to his repeated calls and he turned to retrace his steps.

Discovers Own Danger

It was then, probably, that he first realized that his life was in the greatest danger as he tried to work his way back, with the sleet and snow blowing in his face, probably in a gale of thirty or forty miles an hour. In his struggle to find his cabin, he got off the trail on the right hand side and the first thing he realized was that he went over the bank into the top of the juniper tree. Whether he was injured very badly in his fall, we were unable to determine -- at least none of his limbs was broken -- but from his position with his head down on his knees, he could see the bright, warm fire burning in the open door, and let us hope that a merciful Providence soon ended his suffering.
We estimated that he had intended to come in to Stillwater for supplies about the middle of December when the storm came up and he thought he could wait a few days until the weather got better; then other storms followed, making it impossible for him to think of leaving the cabin, so he must have been in the top of the tree for about 20 days.
We proceeded home, arriving there about twelve o'clock, and deposited the body of Mr. Kellogg in the lower front room of the courthouse, and each immediately repaired to his own home. When I arrived home my wife had a red hot fire and hot coffee on the stove waiting for me, and as soon as I could thaw out, I went to bed thoroughly tired and half frozen at that.

Plans Made For Funeral

Bright and early the next morning we all gathered at headquarters and sent word to all concerned of the accident and that the funeral would be held at two o'clock the second day following, inviting everyone to come to the funeral. Word was sent east to Eastgate and as far as Austin, and over to Pizen Switch, upon the site of which the town of Yerington now stands; also up the river to the Big Bend which is now known as the Towle ranch [Bucklands Station] where the highway crosses the bridge on the way to Yerington.

Thaw Out The Body

We also sent word by the stage driver into Wadsworth and some of us proceeded into the courthouse in the front room of which was a big box stove in which we could put logs about three feet long, and on the top of which we put a boiler and washtub of water. We laid the body of the old man Kellogg on a table and proceeded to dip blankets into the boiling water and apply them to his body in an effort to thaw him out sufficiently that we would be able to place him in a coffin. In the meantime others had made a coffin of rough boards about two feet square and six feet long, and others were digging the grave out west of Stillwater in what is now known as the [in 1932] Langford ranch [3500 Lawrence Lane], where there was a round elevation in which others had been buried. We finally succeeded in getting Mr. Kellogg's limbs stretched out so we could place him in the coffin and cover him with blankets, ready for burial.

Big Crowd Responds

On the day set for the funeral, people began to arrive from all directions and in all kinds of rigs and on horseback. The hotel was soon filled and every family living in Stillwater and its immediate vicinity took on such guests as they could accommodate. No one expected to sleep -- it was only a question of feeding the multitude. Many, however; brought some lunch with them which helped out amazingly. I remember in our house we must have fed at least ten people.
The funeral took place as scheduled with an Adventist minister, a resident of the valley, officiating. The coffin, which must have weighed at least 250 pounds, was put on a hayrack, conveyed to the place of burial and in a little while we had done all we could for old man Kellogg.

Big Dance Follows

The people all returned to the places at which they had gathered and proceeded to get ready to have a big dance that night. As we had nothing in particular to do, the dance began early -- I should say between seven and eight o'clock -- in the courthouse, upstairs, which had been built for this very purpose. My recollection is that the room upstairs was about 26 feet wide and 60 feet long. The floor had been laid of the finest Oregon pine, vertical grain, an inch and one half thick.
In the back of the hall, an organ stood on a small platform which was occupied by the fiddlers, as we did not boast any violin players in those days, who, when tired out, would change off and perhaps add in place of the organ a guitar or a drum or any instrument with which they were equipped.

Dance Lasts All Night

The dance continued until about seven or eight o'clock in the morning, but there were a great many more people present than they could get into the hall at one time, so they would take turns in going home to lunch after twelve o'clock, and in that way everyone had a good time.

Greatest Funeral Ever

In the morning, everyone left for home, declaring this was the greatest funeral and finest dance that had ever been held in Churchill County without any exception, and for the next several years, if two people were in dispute as to what year some event occurred, one would say, "Oh, I remember. That was the second year after old man Kellogg's funeral and the big dance at Stillwater."

-Transcribed by Bunny Corkill in Churchill County In Focus Volume 14 Number 1